


The Most Dangerous Game

by luna_plath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, Bodyguard, F/M, Manhattan, Modern Era, Non-Graphic Violence, Pennsylvania, Prompt Fic, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_plath/pseuds/luna_plath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is Sansa's body guard.  When she witnesses the death of her friend Arianne Martell, the daughter of an influential businessman, he does all he can to protect her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic I wrote based off a prompt but I tweaked a few elements. Please share any comments/thoughts :D

Jon clutched the steering wheel tightly beneath his hands. He was driving much faster than the speed limit but each mile they put behind them made Sansa that much safer. The world around him had narrowed to just white lines on the asphalt, their path illuminated by his headlights while few vehicles passed their car on the stretch of deserted highway. 

They rode in silence for close to an hour without even the tones of the radio to distract them. Sansa hadn’t said a word since he strong-armed her into the car and sped past every stop sign and intersection, but Jon could guess what was on her mind. As her bodyguard it was his job to protect Sansa with every skill he possessed, but Jon hadn’t expected any trouble when earlier that evening he’d accompanied her to a small café in Manhattan to meet her friend Arianne Martell. 

He should have known better. Arianne’s father was an important Saudi Arabian businessman and there had been stories all over the news about unrest between the dissatisfied working class and the Saudi royal family. He should have insisted on Sansa meeting her friend at home, somewhere that could be closely monitored, anywhere that was more secure than a café.

And now Arianne Martell was dead, her blood staining the front of Sansa’s jacket and matted in her hair.

“Where are we going?” she asked, breaking the silence of the past hour.

“Pennsylvania. Your father instructed me to take you to your grandfather’s estate in case of any emergency. You’ll be safe there.”

“Safe,” Sansa said, her voice wavering. “None of us are safe.”

Focusing on the road in front of them, Jon said nothing in reply.

\--

They didn’t reach Hoster Tully’s property in rural Pennsylvania until the early hours of the morning. Jon lifted Sansa out of the car and carried her to the front door like a bride, barely reaching the steps before the girl’s grandfather ushered them inside.

“ _Sansa_ —she’s covered in blood, Ned didn’t say if she was hurt—“ 

“She’s alright,” Jon assured him. “But we’ve been driving all night, I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

“Come this way,” Tully said, leading Jon through a marble-floored entryway and up a glamorous staircase with a mahogany banister.

It seemed all wrong to him, carrying in a comatose girl while they were surrounded by such fine furnishings, Arianne Martell’s blood still under his fingernails. Jon barely had time to take in his surroundings before Tully was leading them down a dimly lit hallway.

“I’ve had a bed prepared for you as well,” the old man said, opening the door to Sansa’s room and turning on a crystal lamp that sat on the bedside table.

Placing the sleeping girl on the duvet, Jon spoke as quietly as possible so he didn’t wake her.

“I cannot leave her side until her father gets here,” he said seriously. “I can’t imagine a safer place for Sansa than where we are now but those are my instructions from Mr. Stark. I do appreciate the offer.”

“Of course,” Tully said. “I’m going to try and call Ned and let him know you’re here. If you need me for any reason—any reason at all—I’ll be two doors down on the left.”

Sansa’s grandfather left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Jon sank down onto a finely upholstered armchair that was placed next to the queen-sized bed.

Only a moment passed before she spoke.

“Thank you,” Sansa said, her voice quaking on the words.

“You don’t have to thank me. I should have done a better job of protecting you.”

She sat up on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, her body almost curled in on itself. “But you _did_ protect me. If it weren’t for you I’d be dead like Arianne—“ her voice broke and her narrow shoulders shook while tears ran down her face.

Jon’s hands were twisted up together, like he couldn’t release the frantic wave of tension that had overtaken him when he saw the man in the black jacket aim a gun at Arianne’s head. He reached over and put his hand on Sansa’s, offering what little comfort he could.

“Here, let me find you some clothes,” he said, looking through the dresser drawers and pulling out a pale blue nightgown.

“I’ll go change,” she said, holding the nightgown close to her body as she entered the attached bathroom.

Jon noticed that Sansa didn’t fully close the door. He wanted her to have privacy, but he supposed it was safer to let him hear what was happening. She came out of the bathroom quickly, looking impossibly tiny in the oversized nightgown, her hand clutching the fabric so she wouldn’t trip over its length. 

Sansa climbed into bed, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and bit her lower lip before asking, “Can you sleep with me?”

“What?” Jon said, unsure if he’d heard her correctly or if he was going mad.

“I’m scared and I want you to lay next to me. I won’t tell anyone, I promise—“

“Okay.”

Jon took off his jacket and boots but kept his gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He sat down on the bed next to her and lay on his side, still on top of the covers. 

Sansa eased closer to him, saying, “I’m sorry for making you do this.”

His pulse ringing in his ears, Jon took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be. Just try to get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

Jon laid still and listened to the sound of her breathing, wondering how he’d ever be able to tell her that tonight was one of the scariest evenings of his life—and not merely because he’d been witness to a murder. He cared about Sansa Stark, probably more than he should. She closed her eyes but kept hold of his hand, falling asleep with their fingers laced together, her head pillowed on his chest.


End file.
